


May the Primes Be With You All

by ChasetheWindTouchtheSky



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Horror, I cannot be held responsible, Purge!AU, Season 6 canon divergence, This is what happens when I listen to trap music, i don't know where this came from, murder day, setting: sanctum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-14 00:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21006659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasetheWindTouchtheSky/pseuds/ChasetheWindTouchtheSky
Summary: “This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system, announcing the commencement of the annual Purge, sanctioned by the Primes. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Primes have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime – including murder – will be legal for twelve continuous hours. Guards and medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at sunrise, when the Purge concludes. Blessed be to the glory of the Primes and Sanctum, a community reborn. May the Primes be with you all.”When everyone got settled in Sanctum, Clarke thought that they finally found a place where they could rest. That is, until they were informed of an annual Purge in Sanctum, created so that the residents could have an outlet for a year worth of frustration. The last thing she wants to do is be thrown in a world of violence – even for a single day. With Monty’s words echoing in their minds, all the survivors of Earth have twelve hours to fight against not only the people of Sanctum, but their previous violent selves.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! 
> 
> I’m going to do something I’ve never done and verge into horror-ish territory. But I was listening to a Halloween trap remix playlist and a Purge remix came on and I thought about Sanctum. They are all about peace – but what if they had one day a year where they allowed their residents to do whatever they wanted and our beautiful babies got caught in it?
> 
> So, since it’s Sanctum and the Primes, the situation is an AU from S6, where Clarke is Clarke and they’re living in Sanctum. Which means in the context of this fic, Spacekru is still being a big bag of dicks toward Clarke in the beginning.
> 
> Let the Purge!AU commence.

MAY THE PRIMES BE WITH YOU ALL

_By ChasetheWindTouchtheSky_

_“This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system, announcing the commencement of the annual Purge, sanctioned by the Primes. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Primes have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime – including murder – will be legal for twelve continuous hours. Guards and medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at sunrise, when the Purge concludes. Blessed be to the glory of the Primes and Sanctum, a community reborn. May the Primes be with you all.”_

It’s an ordinary Wednesday after a series of ordinary days. It was the first time in a while Clarke thought they finally had an opportunity to be normal. When the nightmares slowly receded, the fight or flight instinct that became her best friend finally mellowed, Clarke began to settle.

Of course, that’s a dangerous thing to do.

Because when she woke up on this particular Wednesday, there was a tension in the air she hadn’t felt in a while. Her hairs stood on end n her arm when she watches the people of Sanctum bustle about in a way she doesn’t recognize. The morning of Tai Chi is gone and the smiling faces are replaced with something darker. Clarke frowns, instinctively walking closer to Madi as the two of them wander around the grounds, resisting the urge to put her arm around her

“What’s that?” Madi asks at her side, pointing to someone off to the side where there’s a grinding sound.

Clarke turns and sees the baker, a man who gives Madi cookies every morning with a smile, with a blade in his hands as he sharpens it against a stone, sparks flying around him as he works. She recoils at the sight, his face twisted in a vicious concentration that she only recognizes by someone whose been in war. Her heart skips at the sight and she gives in and wraps an arm around her. “Come on,” she ushers. “Let’s go get breakfast.”

Except, she’s greeted to the same, strange energy in the dining hall. The usual patrons are nowhere to be seen and there’s a single figure behind the bar, wiping the glasses with an intensity that she’s never seen from him. Taking a breath, Clarke approaches the man that she’s had many a conversation with. “Excuse me,” she starts and he jumps at her words. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I have to ask. Is there something going on that we don’t know about? Everyone’s behaving really strangely today.”

The man stops wiping glasses as he looks incredulously at her. “Today is the Purge.” He says as if Clarke should know exactly what that is.

“The Purge?” She asks. “What’s the Purge?”

“No one’s told you?” He asks, eyes wide. “It’s the Day of Violence.”

Clarke holds Madi closer to her. “W-What do you mean?”

“Once a year, the Primes sanction a day of free will. All crimes – except for the destruction of a Prime – are legal. They expel us from the Sanctum radiation shield and all crimes are legal until morning. We’re not allowed back in until the suns rise.”

“What?” Clarke exclaims. “That’s insane, why would there be such a day?”

The man stills. “We are a people of peace. We have rules and restrictions for civility. But if you hinder humanity’s bloodlust, it will come out in other ways. So years ago, after a man slaughtered four Primes, Josephine Prime came up with the idea of the Purge. Instead of completely stifling our instincts for violence, she offered an idea that would make Sanctum safer. One day a year, we’re allowed to give into everything. One day a year, we are allowed an outlet for the anger without consequence. One day a year, we kill.”

Clarke takes a step back, eyes wide. “That’s insane.”

“That’s the Purge.”

Grabbing Madi’s arm, Clarke rushes outside and sees everything in a different light.

The school teacher is cleaning a gun. The baker is sharpening a blade. The local butcher is sharpening his knives. Everyone around them had weapons in their hands. “Oh my god,” she breathes. The gentle people she had been living with now are menacing. Horrible. Terrifying. Turning to Madi, who is cowering behind her, she kneels down. “Find Bellamy. Tell him what the bartender let us know. I’m going to find Russell and try and get our people out of this. This is not our custom and not our war.”

Madi gives a frightened nod before rushing off, dust puffing at her footsteps. Clarke stands and turns toward the Palace. She catches the eyes of those around her, all the citizens of Sanctum staring at her as she passes. They sharpen and clean their weapons, their dark eyes following her as she moves. They’re tracking her, they’re watching her. They may as well be saying one, clear fact:

_You’re first_.

Clarke sprints up the stairs, taking them two at a time, so that by the time she’s in the entrance, she’s breathing heavy. The guards move their weapons to block her path, causing Clarke to run into them. “I need to speak to Russell!” She cries, trying to push past.

“No audiences with the Primes on Purge Day.” One of the guards snaps.

“No, I _need_ to speak to Russell, _please_—”

“I said—”

“Let her through.” A calm voice from the other side offers. Russell comes into view, putting a gentle hand on the guard’s shoulder. “I figured I would be receiving a visit from you today, Ms. Griffin.”

The guard glares at Clarke, but reluctantly brings his blade down. Clarke pushes past him the moment she can, not wasting any time on any pettiness he feels like engaging in. “Russell, please tell me that the Purge is not something we’re expected on participating in.”

Russell tilts his head. “You all are citizens of Sanctum now, are you not?”

Clarke blinks. “Excuse me?”

“When we made a deal that you would be residents on our land, we agreed you would be citizens of our world, which means participating with our customs.”

“You allow your residents to kill each other once a year! That’s something you would mention when we were making our deal!” Clarke exclaims, her eyes watering. She can’t help it. The thought of going back to that violent world when she just escaped it causes her to choke up. “Please,” she begs. “We just found peace. Please don’t do this.”

“If you want to be a part of this community, of this world, you need to comply with the customs. And if you don’t want to participate, simply run. You don’t have to kill yourself.”

“But people will attack my people!” Clarke cries.

“Don’t you mean _my_ people, Clarke?” Russell asks, lifting an eyebrow.

Clarke takes a step back. “This is wrong,” she breathes. “This isn’t how to protect your people.”

“I am protecting my people. I’m protecting them from themselves. From their worst urges. But allowing them to lean into them.” Russell takes a step closer. “If I were you, Ms. Griffin, I would get busying preparing. You wouldn’t want to be without a weapon on the Purge.”

Clarke steps back, eyes wide. A tear slides down her cheek. “This is barbaric.”

“Sure,” Russell states, turning to walk away. “Otherwise known as human.”

He leaves her.

It’s as if someone pushes her head underwater. Everything is overwhelming and buzzing in her ear and she’s not able to focus on anything. She’s vaguely aware when the guards push her out the door, shoving her until she’s back on the stairs.

Clarke looks out.

Everything looks different now. The place that was her own sanctuary from violence, that demanded moral peace. And now she’s right back where they were coming from. Their own fighting pit, their own version of Hell she never expected.

She’s stuck there, unable to move. She sees the violence in everyone around her and feels a panic creeping up her chest. A throng of people are moving toward the stairs toward her. She can see Madi at the front next to Bellamy.

How can she tell them? How can she tell them that she failed them again? Again and again, she came up short for the people she vowed to protect. Tears fall down her cheeks and she sees Raven and Murphy in the pack.

No.

Scrubbing under her eyes, Clarke steels herself. She will not let them see her cry. She will not give them the satisfaction to her demise.

Moving down the steps, Clarke keeps her head as high as she can as she thinks of everything that can happen tonight. It’s enough to send her in a panic attack, but there are Madi and Bellamy moving toward her. She can’t fall apart just yet.

Bellamy is the first one to reach her, his eyes wild and a hint of fear around the corners. “Please tell me this is a sick joke.”

“I’ll leave the sick jokes for Murphy.” Clarke says, shaking her head ever so slightly. “They’re going to kick us out tonight and we are forced to participate in the Purge.”

“This is what happens when Clarke Griffin is the voice of us,” Murphy grumbles. “We get sent into another war.”

Clarke recoils. “I—”

“This is not Clarke’s fault and you know it.” Bellamy snaps at Murphy. “No one in their right mind would be able to prepare for something like this. It’s insane.” Bellamy turns to Clarke and his expression softens. “He’s making us participate, isn’t he?”

Clarke nods, her eyes watering again. “There was nothing I could do.”

Bellamy reaches out, placing his hand on her shoulder. She can’t help but lean into it, as if she can draw strength just by his touch. For a brief, beautiful second she forgets they all are there and she looks up at him, eyes wide. “It’s not your fault,” he repeats.

Turning around, Bellamy settles in front of everyone, in a that way that he always has. It’s all too familiar and too painful to fully take in, so she has to look away. “We don’t have a choice in participating. But we do have a choice with what we do. We will not kill. We will defend ourselves, but we will not participate in the way we want to. We need to gear up and prepare. They will all be acting toward each other, so we need to stay in a group. We are stronger together. As much as possible, no splitting up. We can do this. We can make it through the night.”

He opens his mouth to continue and a siren resounds over Sanctum. All the people around them look up where the speakers are emitting the noise. A chill runs up Clarke’s spine as she watches as everyone grips their weapons. The baker moves to his left and grabs something.

Sliding it over his head, the man pulls a mask on. It has X’s over the eyes and stitched mouth that lights up. Madi makes a small noise and she moves closer to Clarke, who wraps her arms around her. Taking his sword above his head, the baker examines it.

_“This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system, announcing the commencement of the annual Purge, sanctioned by the Primes.”_

***

Bellamy stands at the edge of the radiation shield, a gun tucked in the waistline of his pants and a blade in another hand. The sirens are blaring, the warning announcement playing on repeat all around them. All of their people are huddled in a group, Clarke not letting go of Madi’s hand since the announcement started. He sees Octavia behind him, her eyes flickering around them and he wonders aimlessly if she’s having nightmares of the conclave.

They were all caught in a fighting pit now, not even Blodreina able to escape the violence.

He wonders not for the first time what Monty would do. What are they supposed to do when they’re quite literally being _forced_ to fight for their lives. How can they be better when the option continues to be taken away from them?

There’s a fizzing sound and the radiation shield starts to melt down. There are shadowed figures all around them, their knives and swords glinting in the moonlight, like beacons that they won’t all survive the night. Bellamy’s heart pounds like it always does before war.

“This is disgusting,” Raven breathes at his side. “How do they do this and then stand next to each other in peace the next day?”

“We’ve all tried to kill each other and look at us now,” Bellamy responds, but even as he’s saying it, he doesn’t believe a word he’s saying.

“That’s different and you know it.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I suppose it is.”

The ring of the radiation shield ends on the ground, fizzling until it burns on the grass.

_“May the Primes be with you all.”_

One final siren blares and everyone starts to run. “Come on!” Bellamy cries, ushering everyone in the forest. “We need to find somewhere safe.”

Except it’s clear instantly that there is no where safe. Screams and shouts echo in the forest, the light from the masks illuminating a cold light off the branches. People are shouting and running amok, their blades swiping in the pale light. Bellamy puts his hand up to stop the crunching of leaves and branches underneath their feet as they’re trying to look around.

The forest is quiet for a second.

His breath hitches because even that seems too loud. Reaching for the gun tucked in his back pocket, his gaze darts around.

Then, unblinking X-eyes in a row step out from behind a column of trees.

There’s a shout, a scream, the firing of gunshots and everyone’s on the ground. Bellamy’s eyes are wide and he feels the ground beneath his hands. Someone’s shouting, someone’s calling names, other people are scrambling to their feet to fight. Bellamy lifts his head and sees the group of people coming closer to them, the lights from their masks flickering.

His hand hesitates over the gun.

This was supposed to be their haven. Their fresh start. To make Monty and Harper proud.

His hands quake over the weapon.

There’s a shot that rings out and Bellamy snaps out of his reluctancy and he leaps to his feet. But the people are already scattering, the lights from their masks growing further and further away. Bellamy turns to see who made the first shot, Emori standing a few feet away, eyes wide. “I know we were trying not to kill anyone,” she says, her voice shaking. “But they were going to kill us.”

Bellamy swallows and nods, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Good call,”

“Holy shit, this is real,” Murphy says, looking around. “I kinda expected them to just be trying to freak us out, but they’re genuinely going to kill each other, aren’t they?”

“Seems like it,” Bellamy breathes, wiping down his chest.

“Oh my god!”

He whips around to see Madi standing over someone, her hands over her mouth. He goes to see what’s going on, but is pushed out of the way by Clarke, who is kneeling by someone. “You’re okay, everything’s okay.”

Bellamy runs to look down and it’s as if someone poured ice water down his spine. Raven lies on the ground, her eyes darting around the forest floor with her hands over her abdomen. “Raven,” he says, rushing toward her. Clarke has her hands over Raven’s, turning toward Madi. “Madi! I put first aid supplies in my backpack, will you get them out?”

Madi rushes behind her to the backpack strapped on her back, rummaging as Clarke keeps her hands pressed against her stomach. “Raven, look at me. _Look_ at me!” Clarke snaps and Raven’s wayward attention finally focuses.

“Why am I always the one who has to get shot?” She asks weakly.

Clarke lets out a surprised laugh as she turns to Murphy. “Press down for me, please! I need to clean my tools.”

“I thought medical services weren’t available until sunrise,” Murphy says offhandedly, probably as a lame attempt at a joke.

“Sanctum may not care about its people, but I’m sure as hell not going to go into a night like this unprepared.” Clarke snaps. Murphy kneels next to her and she asks, “Ready?” Murphy nods, pale in the moonlight. “One, two, three!”

Their hands quickly exchange and Raven lets out a cry as they do so. Clarke doesn’t waste any time grabbing the tools from Madi, smiling when she sees what the girl has pulled out of the bag. “Raven, keep talking to me.” Clarke says as she’s pouring some alcohol over a few tools. “I need you to keep talking to me and stay awake.”

“I-I really have nothing to talk about.”

“That’s not true,” Clarke says. “You’ve never been a shrinking violent. Do you want to yell at me? Tell me off again? Tell me how to repair a spaceship? I don’t care, just keep talking.”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate to tell you off when you’re trying to save my life.”

Clarke leans over with a wry smile. “Never stopped you before,” she says jokingly. “You growing soft, Reyes?”

“Never.”

“That’s what I thought.” Clarke says, running some thread through a suture needle. “Okay, Raven. Because you like to know what’s going on, this is what’s happening. I need to take the bullet out and then stitch you up. We’ll have to do a full inspection when it’s light, but this should last us until sunrise. Okay?”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“You make rocket science sound easy.” Clarke says with a warm smile. “This will not be. It will suck a lot. But we’re all here, and we got you.”

“You should just leave—”

“Raven?” Bellamy snaps.

“Huh?”

“Shut up.”

There’s laughter.

It starts quiet, but Bellamy’s head whips up at it. It sounds like it’s coming all around them. He stands and whirls around, gun in his hand. There’s no time for hesitation anymore. Miller joins him, as well as Echo and Octavia, all four of them searching through the forest for the source of the noise. It grows louder and louder, until it sounds like it’s close to all of them. Bellamy tries to see the flickering of the lights of the masks, but the moon is the only thing that gives them any light.

“Okay Raven, are you ready?” Clarke asks behind him and Bellamy continues to search.

Lights of a mask flicker on to his right.

Miller shoots off a round, but all they hear is the sound of rustling leaves. “Be careful with your ammo,” Bellamy says. “We have to last all night.”

“On three, okay?”

A mask flickers on again.

Bellamy moves to shoot, but then it’s gone. He hears the footsteps around them and Bellamy whirls around. “We need to get somewhere covered,” Miller says, moving forward. “We’re sitting ducks right now.”

“We can’t move until Clarke’s done with Raven,” he hisses back, but he knows Miller’s right. They’re too open, too vulnerable.

“Glory be to the Primes!” Someone shouts and it’s closer than Bellamy expects. He tries to see where they are, but all he sees are shadows.

“One.”

Bellamy whips around as footsteps echo around them, laughter growing.

There’s sprinting somewhere. Someone’s running closer and closer.

“Three”

Raven shrieks out and gunshots rain down on them. Masks light up all around, their blue eyes flickering. Before Bellamy can realize what’s happening, someone tackles him and he’s thrown to the ground. Grunting underneath the weight, Bellamy fights with the person on top of him, reaching for a knife by his ankle. He manages to wrap his fingers around the handle and swing it up, plunging it into the neck of the person. They let out a cry, blood splattering on Bellamy’s face that feels all to familiar and terrible. Throwing the person off of him, Bellamy sees Miller struggling with someone and rushes over.

Clarke has thrown herself over Raven and Murphy’s hands, her free hand around Madi who is crouched by her side. “We have children here,” she breathes, her voice catching. “We have children here.” Her breathless plea along with Raven’s cries brings something alive in Bellamy.

Throwing himself against Miller’s attacker, he tumbles to the ground. He rips the mask off of the person, revealing the woman who owns the flower shop close to where they’re staying, her eyes wide. Everything is screaming at him to stop this madness, to not hurt her – to not hurt anyone.

So instead he grabs her collar and throws her against the nearest tree. “Why are you doing this?” He yells. “Why do you participate in this horrible tradition?”

The woman doesn’t answer at first, her eyes glassy and watery. “Please,” she begs. “Please don’t kill me.”

“You were trying to kill us!” Miller shouts. “We don’t want any part of this! Just leave us alone and we won’t hurt anyone.”

“You don’t understand—”

“Try me.” Bellamy says, pressing his forearm against her throat. “We are pretty smart people.”

The woman’s eyes dart around as if she’s expecting help, and it occurs to Bellamy that she probably is. Miller seems to catch on too, so he nods at Echo and Octavia, who maintain their focus on the forest around them. “They promised,” she says, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Bellamy frowns. “Who promised what?”

“They promised us,” she says. “If we took you all out, we wouldn’t have to participate in the Purge anymore.”  


“Who?”

The woman’s eyes go glassy. “Blessed be the Primes and Sanctum. May the Primes be with us all.”

There’s a quick movement next to him and something smacks against her head. Octavia stands next to him, the handle of her sword in hand. “O!” Bellamy shouts as the woman collapses.

“She was going to call her allies.” Octavia snarls. “And said everything she was going to say.”

Clarke straightens up over Raven, holding her needle up in the moonlight. “It’ll be okay, Raven. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Raven’s cries echo in the forest as Clarke works and Bellamy looks at the woman. “This whole thing was on purpose. This isn’t about tradition, it’s the Primes trying to legal take us out.”

Miller moves toward him, arms crossed over his chest. “Why do it this way? Why wait until some government-sanctioned anarchy?”

“It’s because they need to maintain power over their people,” Clarke says from the ground as she works. There’s an undercurrent of anger in her voice that Bellamy is very familiar with. It’s low and rumbling, in the way that Clarke can get angry. It’s rare to see it. But as the moon glints against her hair, her hands stained with red again, he can see it.

The rage.

“They need to seem peaceful and merciful, but they don’t want us here. So in this, they become the good guys. They give their citizens a way to get out of this awful tradition, while simultaneously looking merciful to us. Either outcome – whether we die or not – they win.” Clarke motions to Madi, who gives her a roll of bandages. Wrapping them around Raven’s waist, Clarke continues, “They didn’t make their people scared of us. They made them scared of this day. I bet more people than not don’t want to participate, but are forced to. It’s their only way out.”

Clarke leans back on her calves. “That’s as much as I can do for now. I need more light and more supplies. It should be good until sunrise, but we need to get somewhere safe.”

“They have every advantage,” Echo says, looking around. They know this forest, they know this day, they know each other. If they’re planning to gang up on us so they can go home, what chance do we have?”

“That’s the spirit.” Murphy says weakly.

“We’ve made it this far,” Bellamy says. “We’ve survived so much already. We’re not going to be taken down by this day.”

“I think I liked you better when you were a pessimist.” Murphy groans as he gets to his feet.

“Jordan, help me with Raven,” Clarke says and the boy rushes over. The two manage to get Raven to her feet, Raven crying out.

“I can carry her,” Jordan offers. “I can do it.”

Clarke gazes at him for a moment, then nods. “They may know this land better than us,” Clarke says. “But we know survival better than anyone. We can do this.”

Bellamy turns to her, her eyes alit with something he hasn’t seen in a while. She’d been beaten down by everyone – her family, her friends, the earth. And now she’s back fighting. It almost takes his breath away. Nodding, he reaches out. “Together?”

A wry smile flicks on her face. “Together.”

***

It’s slow moving with Raven, but they are able to make their way through the forest without any interactions with the citizens of Sanctum. There are screams and shots fired in the distance, but not nearly close enough for them to be worried. Clarke holds Madi’s had so tight, she’s wondering if she’s hurting the girl, but she doesn’t really care. She needs to make sure that the girl is with her and the only thing that keeps her heart from leaping out of her chest is holding her hand. Madi doesn’t say anything, so she doesn’t think further.

“Over here,” Octavia calls and she pushes some branches out of the way to reveal a cave. Clarke pulls Madi closer, the two of them running in. Jordan carefully puts Raven on the ground, the woman letting out a weak groan.

Clarke rushes to her side and pulls up her shirt to see a bloody bandage. “How you doing, Raven?” She asks gently.

“Oh, you know. Never been better.”

Clarke can’t help but give a weak laugh. “Just as I suspected.”

Raven’s eyes focus on Clarke and Clarke feels under a microscope. It was no secret that the two of them had their differences lately, but she isn’t sure what to do with Raven looking at her like that. “You going to keep me alive long enough to survive this night?” She asks, her lips pale.

“Yes,” Clarke says succinctly. “I will.”

Raven doesn’t blink. “You going to save my life again?”

“Yes.”

Raven eyes water. “If I don’t make it,”

“Raven.”

“If I don’t make it,” Raven pressed on. “Will you bury me by Shaw?” Clarke’s eyes widen. Raven swallows. “It was your idea to put the cross up by his grave, wasn’t it?”

Clarke can’t help the tears. They escape down her cheek. “He was Catholic. I-I thought it would be what he wanted.”

“It was.” Raven says, blinking away a few tears of her own. “It was perfect.” She grins. “What would you put next to mine?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Clarke states, gripping her hand. “Because it’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know?”

Clarke gives the woman a wry smile. “Because, as you all like to point out, I’m the Commander of Death. And I don’t give you permission to die.”

Raven lets out a laugh. “Yes ma’am.”

Clarke stands up from where Raven is, Emori, Murphy, and Jordan by her side. Madi’s in the back with Miller, Miller close enough so their legs touch as he casts a glance in her direction every once and a while. She’s grateful for him.

Moving toward the mouth of the cave, she seems Bellamy standing at the entrance. She looks down at her hands, Raven’s blood staining her fingertips. Wiping them frantically down her pants, Clarke tries to get it off, to no avail. She joins Bellamy at the door, his hand on his gun as he searches the forest.

“We’re back here again,” Clarke says softly, unable to stop the longing in her voice.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I thought we had finally stopped.”

“Me too.” She breathes.

A shout and a shot rings out and Clarke flinches. Somewhere, deep in the forest, grows an orange flame, it growing and growing over the land. “They’re burning it down,” she says, horrified. “They’re burning the forest down.”

“It’s an excuse to be the most horrible you’ve ever been. They have no consequences for their actions.” Bellamy shakes his head, disgusted. “And tomorrow they will act as if nothing’s happened.”

“Bellamy, what are we going to do?” Clarke asks. “We can’t stay in Sanctum after this. Not after the Primes are trying to take us out with the guise of this horrible night.”

“We can’t survive on our own out here. Not with the radiation. We need a plan before we leave Sanctum. We can’t just leave.”

“How can we sit next to people who are trying to kill us?”

“We’ve done it before.” Bellamy says with a smile, nudging her shoulder. “We’ve been through worse. We’ve always found each other, in the end.”

Clarke recoils at the words.

They’ve always found each other.

She never expected such an admission from Bellamy. It pierces her heart and the longing that she’s shoved inside is pouring out. He smiles warmly at her, the light from the growing fire flickering off his skin. Bellamy’s always been beautiful, but right now he’s mesmerizing. He’s her home, her light in a vast sea of darkness.

“Listen, Clarke,” Bellamy states. “We all may not survive this night.”

“Bellamy, please—”

“No,” Bellamy says. “After Praimfaya, I learned that when you want to say something, you need to say it. There was so much I needed to say to you, but I thought that we would have five years on the Ring. I was certain we would be in space together and I kept putting it off. I need to say this. Because you of all people should know how things change.”

Clarke feels the need to run. He’s leaning closer to her, the fire flickering in his eyes, earnest and sincere.

“Clarke, I wanted to kill you when I first met you.” Clarke can’t help but snort at that. It seems so long ago. “You were a pain in the ass, you were bossy and serious and you had one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. You were the first person to ever forgive me, and I didn’t know how much I needed it until you did. You stood up for me against Finn, against Jaha, against everyone. I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you weren’t there anymore.”

“You need me?” Clarke asks, whispering against the shouts of the ending world.

“I need you, Clarke Griffin.” Bellamy says. “And if I don’t survive tonight, I needed you to know. And I need you to know how important you are, and how you have saved us all many time. And you need to remember who you are, even when others don’t.”

“I got you for that,” Clarke whispers, eyes watering.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but there’s an explosion outside, closer than Clarke expects. _“Glory be to the Primes!”_ Someone shouts and amidst the sea of fire, blinking blue eyes emerge. “They found us,” Clarke breathes.

“We have to get Raven and get somewhere to safe.” Bellamy mutters. “There’s no backside to this cave, it’ll be a slaughter.”

He turns and runs toward the mouth of the cave, leaving Clarke to stare at the fire.

Clare stands before the wave of fire, growing closer. She sees the blinking blue eyes of the masks among the flames. The light illuminates closer, but not enough to show anymore than the Commander of Death, standing at the mouth of the cave.

She doesn’t look behind her. She can’t.

She didn’t know how to earn their forgiveness until this moment. They thought they lost her in a sea of flames before, and then spit vitriol when she remained alive.

From the fire she was born, and from the fire she will return.

Grabbing the handle of her machete, Clarke lifts her head up. She thrusts the machete in the air, the metal gleaming reflections of the fire around her. The eyes move closer to where she is, close enough so that she can see blood splattered across their fronts.

Swallowing, Clarke closes her eyes. “I’m sorry Madi.” She says to herself.

Eyes snapping open, Clarke braces herself against the masked figures. _“Glory be to the Primes! Glory be to the Primes!”_

The chant grows louder.

Stepping out of the mouth of the cave, Clarke is bathed with firelight. She brings her weapon closer, looks them in the eye, and shouts,

_“Fuck the Primes!”_

She sprints into the fire, the masked figures following.

Blessed be to the glory of the Primes and Sanctum, a community reborn.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> I hope you’re having a good month of Halloween! I feel like I should state for the record, B/echo isn’t a thing in this fic, since it’s just a two-shot and I don’t like throwing random breakup scenes in short pieces. I’ll just get into it, here’s Part Two! <3

MAY THE PRIMES BE WITH YOU ALL: Part Two

_By ChasetheWindTouchtheSky_

The further he goes into the cave, the more the warmth from the fire recedes. However, it feels like it’s still licking his back, as a reminder that they are so close to the end again. He sees everyone huddled around Raven in varying levels of fear, Raven’s eyes closed. Emori is to her right, holding her hand as the woman rests, her eyes focused on the mouth of the cave. Bellamy hates the fact that they’ve been thrown into a world of violence once more.

“We have to get out of here,” Bellamy says as soon as he’s close to everyone.

Emori stares. “What are you talking about? We can’t move Raven!”

“They’re outside the cave.” Bellamy states. “If we stay in here, we’re sitting ducks. They’ll take us all out.”

“But we can’t move Raven!”

“What else can we do?” Bellamy cries. He feels himself slipping a little.

Bellamy’s learned a few things over the years. Through the countless wars, through all the pain and loss. He’s learned that people look to someone to give them strength. When there is no hope, they look for it anyways. Because when hope is finally gone?

God, what a tragedy.

Often those eyes are turned to him and he’s felt their weight as if it were his sins. Everyone is looking to him now, as they always do. So he looks to where he always does.

Clarke.

Except when he turns to face her, to derive some sort of hope that he simply cannot find himself, there’s no one standing next to him. “Clarke?” He asks, frowning. “Clarke, where—”

_“Fuck the primes!”_

The shout is so guttural, visceral. There’s so much weight and emotion in it, there’s only one person who could’ve made it. Even if he didn’t know the exact timbre of her voice, the inflection, the power, there’s only one person it could’ve been.

“No,” he breathes, looking toward the mouth of the cave.

Bellamy sprints toward the mouth of the cave, just in time to see the flash of dark figures sprinting deeper into the fire. His breath hitches as he watches the faint blue from the masks disappear into a sea of red, everything going up into smoke.

He stands.

For a small moment, everything grows quiet. The calls from inside the cave, the crackling from the fire, the screams from deep within the forest, they go away. All that’s left is his thoughts, which are unbearably loud. They shriek, they claw at the inside of his mind.

_We always find each other_.

But Clarke was always running away.

Even though he couldn’t see her, he knows exactly what went through her mind. For Clarke, it’s always been about survival of the human race. But for some, unknown reason, that survival never included herself. He doesn’t know what it would take to have Clarke to want to save herself.

Bellamy swallows.

Finally, he can hear the laughter and the screeching in the distance.

It snaps him out of it.

Whirling around, he moves to where everyone is still huddled in the back of the cave. When he reaches them, he locks eyes with Miller, who clenches his jaw. He knows, Bellamy doesn’t have to say anything. Miller and Clarke had grown closer over the past few weeks within Sanctum. Distantly, Bellamy remembers telling Clarke to keep Miller close, and he never realized how much she took that advice to heart. Miller brings Madi closer to him as Bellamy prepares himself.

“Clarke’s drawn the fire of the people hunting us.” Bellamy states as unemotionally as he can. Madi’s head whips up and Octavia stares him down, as if she wants to say something that she can’t.

For a few seconds, no one speaks.

“Okay, so what I’m hearing is we’re safe now?”

Bellamy isn’t quite sure if he’s hearing the words correctly. He turns to see Murphy sitting next to Emori and tries to find some words to respond. Before he can, Miller springs to his feet, taking a step toward Murphy with a scowl on his face. He still has a hand back, as if he’s protecting Madi, but his eyes are trained on Murphy. “Excuse me?” He asks darkly.

“What?” Murphy asks. “You’re all thinking it. If Clarke wants to draw all of them away so Raven doesn’t need to be moved, I say we let her! We can stay here and be safe.”

_“Clarke sacrificing her life cannot always be our Plan B!”_ Bellamy shouts and almost startles himself with how much force is in the sentence.

Except it’s true.

Every time they were pressed up and seemed like they would lose, something happened and it was at the expense of Clarke’s life. It was a pattern, an offering everyone accepted as default over the years. He’s watched everyone treat Clarke as if she didn’t matter after she put Madi above everyone else, and now are more than willing to bathe themselves in her blood at the first opportunity.

“It’s not an option.” Bellamy states, his voice low. “Not anymore. You may be willing to accept it, and for that, Monty would be ashamed of you.”

Murphy snaps his mouth shut and the corners of Miller’s mouth turn up ever so slightly and he retreats. “Not all of should go, though. Raven does need to stay here and we need people who can protect her. I won’t force anyone to go get Clarke with me, but—”

“I’m in.” Miller states, grabbing his gun.

“Me too.” Octavia stands up. “She would do the same for me.”

Bellamy tries not to visibly frown at that, the fear of his sister’s blood thirst something he can’t control. “Me too!” Madi stands, searching for her sword.

“No, Madi.” Bellamy says, walking over to her. “I need you to stay with Raven.” Madi’s face twists into something that mixes grief and rage, opening her mouth to argue, but Bellamy stops her. “You need to watch over Raven. Clarke taught you all about tracking and how to notice the signs. I need you to stay here. Watch over Raven.”

“B-But I need to find my mom.”

“Madi, do you trust me?” Bellamy asks, grabbing her shoulders. She doesn’t answer right away. “The first time I met you, you knew me and I didn’t know you. But you recognized me instantly and dragged me because you trusted that I’d be able to help Clarke. I need you to trust me like that again and listen when I tell you that I need you here.”

Madi’s eyes water. After a few tense moments, she nods and steps back.

“Fine, I’m in too.” Murphy says, standing up and ducking under the shoulder strap.

“What?” Miller exclaims. “Why the fuck are you coming?”

Murphy shrugs. “No one gets to run around with that much chaotic energy except me.”

“Murphy—”

“Shut up, I’m just coming.” Murphy snaps.

Bellamy narrows his eyes, trying to figure out any reason that he may be coming that will cause any problems. When he can’t find any, he nods. “Okay, we need to be careful. There are way more of them then there are of us. They know the land better than we do. But we’re more prepared. They’re bakers, they’re teachers. We will not use lethal force unless absolutely necessary, okay? We just need to find Clarke and then we’ll reconvene here. If you guys need to move Raven, we’ll find each other at dawn when the radiation shield is back down. Understood?”

Everyone nods in agreement.

“Alright,” Bellamy says, turning toward the fire. “You know the drill. Eyes sharp, weapons hot.”

***

The laughing is growing louder and louder.

Clarke can hear her breath, she can hear her heart, but what she can hear louder than anything is the louder. It’s deranged and maniacal, filling her ears like the fire is warming her skin.

Clarke’s been in wars. She’s been on defense and been on offense. She’s taken lives – more than she can count, more than would ever fit on the hilt of her gun – but this is a scenario she was never prepared for. Every life had value because of the weight and the repercussions it held. Even Mount Weather, where everyone fell at her hand, their lives had meaning. She carries them with her daily. Every life she took, she convinced herself there was no other way.

Clarke wasn’t prepared for this.

This was a darkness of humanity she never knew. Sure, she met people who did horrible things. But they did them for their people, for their survival, for some reason that a part of her would always be able to understand on some level.

This is sport.

This is nothing more than humanity’s darkest tendencies put to a game, the laughter the score, the darkest thoughts the rules, and the blood spilt as the reward. As Clarke urges her legs to push her further, she sees something she’s never understood before: death, simply because you can.

“Come closer, space princess,” someone calls to her and her breath hitches against the word. Hearing the word ‘princess’ uttered without any humor, without any kindness, makes her blood ice over. “We simply want to play with our new friend.”

Her chest is aching. Clarke wonders how long she can run from them, how long her legs will give her amongst the fire. As she’s contemplating which way to go, there’s a resounding crack and a crash, a tree falling to her feet. She skids to a halt, her toes inches away from being crushed under the weight. Turning around, Clarke sees fire.

Then she sees eyes.

The blue X’s appear, dark figures joining them. They’re dressed in dark clothes, but can’t hide from the light of the flames engulfing them all. Five people emerge, a few with knives, some with guns. Clarke has her own weapon in hand, but even that seems useless.

The lights flicker.

“We just want to play.”

It’s devoid of humanity, of compassion. Maybe that was the whole point. Maybe the point of the Purge isn’t to give into your worse impulses, but to not carry the weight of your humanity for a day. To set it aside and put on a mask, so you can hide from what you fear.

Yourself.

“Please,” Clarke says, putting her hand up, her skin burning as she takes a step back, her heels hitting the back of the tree that’s fallen. The flames lick her skin and burn, Clarke squeezing her eyes shut as she tries to think of an escape path.

Maybe it’s for the best. Finally, all of the running would be over. She knows Bellamy would look after Madi. Raven should be fine to make it to morning. Maybe after years of tragedy, after heartbreak and loss, this is what her end will be.

She spent all her energy trying to save humanity and humanity would be her end.

One of the figures step forward, its head tilting in an uncanny way. They’re carrying a machete, blood dripping from the blade. “It’s my favorite part of the night,” he says.

Clarke swallows. “What?”

“When the vermin beg.”

***

Another scream rips throughout the forest and Bellamy can’t help but jump. Everything about the night scares him on a core level that he can’t understand. All the other battles he fought, he knew what he was going up again. This? He had no idea.

“This is so messed up,” Miller says at Bellamy’s side. “Murdering just because you can? What kind of sick people are these?”

“Yeah, you literally threw people in a giant cage and had them fight to the death, so I don’t know how you can be talking about the sickness in people.” Murphy drawls at their side.

Miller makes a charge at him, but Bellamy puts his hand on the man’s chest. “That’s _enough_. I understand that we all have some shit to deal with on how to move on from what happened in the valley, but tonight is _not_ the night to get into it. We have enough people trying to kill us without you two murdering each other.”

Miller clenches his jaw, but moves back so he’s no longer restrained by Bellamy. “You don’t get it.” Miller snaps, his words icy. “You never will.”

“Oh yeah?” Murphy says. “Who would understand what you did, anyway?”

“Clarke. Clarke understands. It’s called having a heart, you complete coward.” Miller grumbles. “You guys had your time in space, where you had everything you needed to survive. You had people to keep you sane, you had all the food and nutrients you needed to survive, and you had a way down to earth that you controlled. You will never understand the amount we had to overcome in the bunker and I have a feeling you will never understand the feeling of being alone with a child on a planet that is recovering from a nuclear wipeout. So why don’t you do what you’ve never done in your life, and think before you open that piece of garbage you call a mouth.”

Miller pushes away from Bellamy and moves forward. Octavia, whose remained silent throughout this exchange, marches forward to where the man is, but he recoils at her proximity. “Like I said,” Bellamy states, giving Murphy a look. “So not the time for this.”

There’s a shout and a stream of gunfire. Except the difference is he recognizes the shout. “Clarke,” he breathes. “Guys, she’s that way.”

They run.

The forest is still on fire, embers littering the ground as they move past. Gunshots resound and get louder as they push forward. Putting his hand up, Bellamy stops everyone. “Okay, remember. We are not trying to kill anyone. Shoot to injure. Not to kill.”

“Killing’s not off the table though, right?” Murphy quips and Bellamy throws him a look.

They peer around some trees, seeing a figure in the center of the field with a mask on. Bellamy strains to see anyone else, but there’s a dark figure laying on the ground.

Clarke’s jacket.

Something snaps inside of him. Rushing into the field, he yells, “Get back!” Bellamy shouts.

The figure startles, turning toward them. They’re standing next to a body with clothes littered on them, the metal from Clarke’s jacket twinkling in the flames. Bellamy lifts his gun and he’s greeted to flashing blue eyes of the mask, the stitched mouth doing nothing but fill him with anger. “What did you do!” He shouts. “Answer me!”

There are so many things coursing through his mind. It’s enough to make his eyes water. He can’t help but continue to look at the crumpled figure on the ground. His mind feels like it’s officially caught fire form the flames around them. All he can tell himself is that this isn’t real, even though he knows it’s more real than anything in his life.

She can’t be gone.

She can’t be standing next to him in one moment, then devoured by flames in the next.

It’s as if he’s living the nightmare of Praimfaya all over again. He’s in his suit, she’s in hers, and they’re separating. He never told her how he truly felt about he because he genuinely thought the two had time. They had five years of peace. To figure out who they are and figure out together.

Then, he finally was trying to say it.

_God,_ he was trying to say it.

All of Clarke’s walls rose as he started, he watched it happen. He can see the telltale signs of Clarke Griffin sealing herself off because it’s too painful. He understands. He understands why she fears love. He’s watched it be ripped away from her time and time again. If anyone understands, he does.

But one thing he’s learned is that a life without love is no longer a life. It’s merely surviving with a gun in one hand and bad memories.

They were supposed to have their time.

_“What did you do?”_ Bellamy cries, his voice breaking.

They put their hands up and move to grab something. Before Bellamy can even shout at them to stop, Murphy brings up his gun and shoots. The figure falls back at the impact, their hand on their shoulder. Bellamy turns, aghast. “What?” Murphy says with a shrug. “You said no killing, you didn’t say no shooting.”

Bellamy turns to the figure. Clarke’s… murderer.

He could really watch them die.

He could.

But he promised Monty they’d be better.

Before he determines this war between themselves, the figure rips the mask off their face and shrieks, “You fucking shot me, you asshole!”

They all freeze.

Clarke tosses the mask to the side, her face turning red as black blood seeps through her fingers. Her head tilts back as if she’s cursing whatever god has put her in this situation. Murphy freezes. “Oh my god!”

She winces. “Why?!”

“I thought you were a Sanctum person!” Murphy exclaims. “You had a mask on!”

“I was trying to tell you it was me!”

“I didn’t know that!”

“You shot me!”

“Technically, this is legal right now, just so we’re all clear.” Murphy states, putting his hands up.

Bellamy could really punch him right now.

Instead, he kneels on the ground here Clarke is, pressing his hands against her shoulder where blood is trickling from her wound. “What the hell were you thinking, Clarke?” He hisses, not even caring that he has an audience. “Going off on your own like that!”

“I was thinking that even if we could move Raven, there’s no way we’d move fast enough to get out without causalities!” Clarke snaps. “I didn’t think that the people I would need to be worried about shooting me the most was you guys!”

“I would like to point out we all thought she was a Sanctum person!” Murphy exclaims.

“Yeah, but only you shot her, man.” Miller snaps.

“Oh my god, you shoot _one_ person, and suddenly you’re the bad guy?”

“Yes.” Miller says. “That’s exactly how that works.”

“Seriously, you two are going to be put in time out soon.” Bellamy says. “Clarke, you can’t keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” Clarke asks. “Saving your lives?”

“Risking yours!” Bellamy exclaims. “Did you not hear me earlier? I wasn’t just saying words!”

“Bellamy, I know—”

“No, I don’t think you do and I need you to hear me.” Bellamy says and for a brief moment the world melts away.

It’s simply the two of them.

Bellamy presses his hands against the bullet wound, but holds her for reasons he’s never said aloud. “Clarke,” he breathes. “I can’t keep losing you. I can’t keep watching you leave.”

Clarke turns to him, her eyes watering.

She’s breathtaking.

In the firelight, the orange and red glow against her skin, her eyes as intense as ever. He’s always wondered if his words ever got through to her. Found their way through the walls of pain, despair, and self-loathing after everything they’ve done.

Now, he knows.

Looking into her eyes, he can see it. The clarity within them. That she’s hearing the words he’s saying, _seeing_ him in front of her. He can see the fear. It’s the same fear that he feels within himself. But the world is too unkind and harsh not to be vulnerable with the people you love the most.

Maybe that’s the solution to the Purge. Combat the worst of human impulses with the best. Trade a violent world for a gentle one.

“Okay.”

Bellamy startles.

He didn’t know what Clarke was going to say in response, but this one word answer is not what he expected. _Okay_.

It’s more of a proclamation than any other word or string or words she could’ve said.

Okay.

“Not to rip you from your from here to eternity moment, but we’re all about to catch on fire and there are people trying to murder us.” Murphy says.

Clarke’s head whips up and she points at him with her free hand. “You just shot me so you are not allowed to be a dick anymore.”

“That’s fair. I accept those terms.”

Clarke nods. Murphy nods.

A smile stretches across her face, then across Murphy’s. An almost deranged giggle escapes Clarke’s lips and Murphy snorts. Then, the two of them are laughing, pained and mildly crazy, Clarke placing her hand over her face.

“See, this is the part of you that I understand the least,” Miller says to Clarke, gesturing between the two of them with his gun. “Whatever this is.”

“Real recognizes real.” Murphy says matter-of-factly.

“Cockroach recognizes cockroach.” Clarke says.

“Murphy was initially right,” Bellamy says over whatever this is. “We need to get going.”

“Wait, say that again.” Murphy states. “Never stop saying that.”

Bellamy turns to Clarke. “Murder’s legal?”

“Technically, but it is frowned upon.”

“Right.” He groans.

Helping Clarke to her feet, he watches her wince as they do so and she leans against him as soon as she’s upright. “You know,” she states, gesturing to the mask she cast aside at her feet. “There’s more than just that one. I knocked a handful of people out over there.”

“What are you saying?” Bellamy asks.

“I had a stroke of inspiration, which obviously was mildly flawed.”

“‘Mildly?’” Murphy snorts.

Clarke waves him aside. “Anyone ever read about the story of Troy?”

Bellamy freezes, turning to look at her.

“What about our very own Trojan horse?”

One moment he’s standing there, helping her to her feet, and the next he’s kissing her. Bellamy isn’t sure exactly what’s come over him in this exact moment, but he grabs the back of her head and pulls her closer, feeling her weight against his as he pulls her as close as he can. His entire body feels as if it’s caught fire from the flames around him, but nothing has ever felt more right. He could spend the rest of his days like this, Clarke’s lips on his, and know that finally the Universe got something right.

“Oh. My. God!” Murphy shouts right next to his ear and he flinches, pulling apart. “Of _course_ you would do this now, and the worst possible time!”

“Raven owes me a drink,” Miller says thoughtfully. “How long do you think is socially acceptable in calling in a victory drink when the loser has been shot?”

Octavia ponders. “At least a week.”

“Damn.”

“Listen, I’m glad you’ve finally taken your head out of your asses – and remind me to make fun of you for having the moment be due to _Greek mythology_, you big fucking nerd – but we are literally about to die. There’s a million more important things we should be doing.”

“It was pretty important to me,” Clarke says, breathless.

“Oh! My! God!”

“Do you ever have an ‘off’ switch?” Miller asks.

Bellamy can’t help but smile. It’s not the appropriate time, but he doesn’t care.

The world’s on fire, they have people wanting to kill them.

But something is right.

***

Clarke’s actively trying to ignore the searing pain in her shoulder, mainly because Bellamy keeps turning toward her every time her foot catches. Fortunately they’re all wearing masks, so he can’t see her wince or the tears in her eyes. Her entire arm feels like it’s on fire and it’s spreading down to her fingertips, but there’s no time for that.

They make it to the cave without any incident, the group of them stumbling out of the fire. Clarke chokes a bit, pulling the mask on in case they have a repeat of the Murphy incident, the smoke that has been curling around her making her chest heavy. No one says anything as they take their masks off, carefully moving toward the back.

They’re greeted to silence.

Clarke moves as quickly as she can to the back of the cave, but there’s no one there. All there is, is a stained part of the ground where Raven lay all those hours before. Clarke bends down and touches it with her non-injured hand and looks up. “It’s still wet. They must’ve left recently. The fire would’ve dried this out quickly.”

“Clarke,” Miller says, pointing at the wall.

Clarke looks up and stands, taking in a breath.

Scratched into the cave wall are giant X’s and the stitched mouth like the masks. Underneath is a hasty scrawl of, _“There is a killer inside all of use. There is a killer behind you.”_

Clarke stills.

More than anything this evening, it is as if someone’s poured water down her back.

Slowly, she turns around with everyone else.

They’re greeted to blinking blue eyes.

They all stand at the mouth of the cave, the lights flickering. Behind them is the vicious fire, pouring them into silhouette except for the fire ring around their bodies. This must be what demons truly are. Surrounded by fire.

Look like us.

“I thought you wanted to play with us.” Someone says behind the mask. “We just want to play.”

The row of people take a step forward.

They start to laugh. It echoes in the cave all around them, growing. “Don’t you want to play?”

Bellamy reaches out and grabs Clarke’s arm. She can’t think of anything. Their backs are literally up against the wall. She reaches for the gun tucked in her pocket, but as she does so, one of them shots the ceiling of the cave above her, dust and rocks falling onto her head. “Nah ah,” one says, waving their finger back and forth. “We want to play.”

Clarke swallows, trying to think. All of her strategy, all of her experience. All out the window with a compassionless enemy.

_“Ring around the rosy.”_

One of them shoots and Octavia lets out a yell, collapsing to the ground. “O!” Bellamy shouts.

_“Pockets full of posies.”_

Another shot rings out and Miller stumbles backwards.

_“Ashes, ashes.”_

Murphy falls.

_“We all.”_

The thought hits her.

_“Fall.”_

She shouldn’t be thinking strategy.

_“Down.”_

Clarke bends down as if to put her weapon down. She sets it on the ground as they get closer, but before she stands, she wraps her fingers around a nearby rock. With a quick movement, she throws it at the closest figure and they collapse. Reaching for her gun, she releases a few rounds, only hitting one of her targets with her off-kilter shoulder.

Bellamy takes the opportunity to drag the two of them behind a boulder. “That was dumb!” He cries.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re lucky it did.”

He peeks behind the corner, flinching back when a round of gunshots spray against the rock. “What do you have in mind?” He asks her.

Clarke shakes her head. “Hope they’re bad shots?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You got a better plan?”

When the rounds go against the rocks, he sighs. “You go left, I go right?”

Clarke nods. She reaches out and grabs his hand. She’s held him before, but never like this. She’s testing, she’s asking permission, she’s seeing if it’s okay. He looks at her when she does so, something brewing behind his eyes that feels like a promise. Maybe it is. Squeezing back, Bellamy lets go. “One,” he starts.

“Two.”

“Three.” They say together, coming out from behind the boulder.

The two fire off several rounds, rushing at the attackers. It’s clear they were not ready for the two to go on the offensive, because they startle at the movement, the accuracy of their shots dwindling. Clarke manages to shoot two in the leg and disarm them. She sees Bellamy making quick work of the others on his end. The fifth figure moves, pointing his gun at Bellamy as he wrestles with another, so Clarke does the first thing that comes to her head:

She tackles him.

It’s an idiotic decision for several reasons. One, her entire shoulder feels as if it was rippled from her body. She can’t help but cry out as the two tumble. Two, she loses grip of her gun in the process, but the attacker doesn’t. Finally, she didn’t understand the sheer size of the person until he flips her on her back and he kneels on top of her.

With a quick motion, he rips the mask off, revealing the bartender she spoke to just that morning. “I told you, Clarke. It’s an important tradition. An outlet for our anger. And people are angry. We’re angry the Primes let you live among us. You, who have destroyed your own planet, destroyed each other. And this is the only day we’re allowed to do anything about it. You seem like a nice person. But I’m going to enjoy this.”

He reaches in his pocket and takes out a knife, pressing the flat side of the blade against her cheek. As she fights against his weight, he puts his knee on her shoulder and the pain explodes in her body and her vision goes white and she sees stars. She wants to plead, to say something, but she can’t even string two words together.

“Blessed be the Primes,” he says as he leans closer. “May the Primes be with—”

A shot rings out and Clarke flinches. The bartender collapses to the side off of her, revealing Bellamy standing above the two, his gun out.

Clarke looks up at him, expecting to see panic at the action.

There’s nothing.

There’s resolve. Anger. Conviction.

Rushing to her side, he kneels and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says distantly. “Thank you.”

Bellamy nods, his eyes watery. “It’s what you and I do.”

Clarke grips his shoulder.

For a moment, they’re filled with relief that they’re alright.

Then at the same moment, they turn behind them. Bellamy helps her to her feet and the two shuffle over to where Octavia, Miller, and Murphy lay. The three of them are in pools of their own blood. “Oh my god, no.” Clarke breathes, kneeling by Miller. She searches for the wound and her hands come back bloody by his abdomen.

  
Except the wound isn’t what she expects.

There’s no gunshot. Instead, the flesh is ripped and pieces of shrapnel litter the open wound. Placing her hands around his head, Clarke strokes his forehead with her thumb. “Miller,” she breathes. “Miller, wake up.”

His eyes flutter open and he lets out a groan. “Is there an alien coming out of my stomach, because that’s what it feels like.”

She hears Octavia make a noise and Bellamy let out a breath. Clarke can’t help but blink away a few tears at the noise, then taken out of her reverie by Murphy saying, “Oh right, I have no one.”

Rolling her eyes, Clarke moves toward him. The shrapnel is buried into this shoulder, blood staining his shirt. She grins. “That’s the quickest karma I’ve ever seen.”

“Fuck you, Clarke.”

Taking his hand, she helps him to his feet as Bellamy helps Octavia and Miller. “Not bullets,” Clarke says. “Shrapnel. I think they wanted to injure and then kill us.”

“That was nice of them,” Miller breathes. “Like to play with their food.”

“Makes sense, there seems to be two types of people here. One that just wants to not participate and one that wants to.” Bellamy says. “The Purge brings out the worst in everyone – inhumane and cowardly.”

“Yay humanity!” Murphy says weakly.

“We’ve got to find the others,” Clarke says. “Madi, Raven, Emori, Echo. We need to make sure they’re okay.”

“Not to mention, we need to go before our friends over here wake up.” Bellamy says, gesturing to the slumped bodies.

“I don’t think this one will be waking up anytime soon.” Murphy says, eyeing the man Bellamy killed only moments before. “Unless you can piece his brain together like a puzzle.”

“Let’s go, Murphy.” Bellamy grumbles.

The sky is lightening. At first Clarke thinks it’s her eyes desperately seeing what she wants to, but as they move through the burning forest, she sees the sky is covered in dark purples and blues. “It’s almost sunrise,” she breathes. “We only have about another hour before this is over.”

“What are we going to do when this is over?” Miller asks. When Murphy rolls his eyes at the man, Miller persists. “I’m serious. How are we supposed to live with these people who’ve been hunting us like animals all night?”

“I find alcohol helps with being cool with people who’ve tried to kill you.” Murphy offers.

“We have a year,” Bellamy states. “One year to find a way to make our own radiation shield. We don’t have to become friends with these people. We just need to survive long enough to escape them.”

“And here I thought this was our new beginning,” Miller mutters.

“It is.” Clarke says. “A lot of people don’t want to do this. And there will always be people who don’t want others to exist. We have a full year to figure out a way to live here. That’s more time than we’ve ever had. We’ve figured out the others, we can figure this out.”

“Yeah, remember when we had like weeks to survive a global nuclear destruction?” Murphy drawls.

“Because that ended so well.”

“We can do this, Miller.” Clarke says, reaching out for him. “We can do this.”

She says it with such earnest, it must get through to him. His fear falters and is replaced with something that looks like hope. “It’s moments like these, when I see the worst humanity has to offer,” Clarke continues, the group of them limping along in the forest. “That I have to believe that there is also a best. We have all done horrible things. Selfishly, unselfishly. We have seen the darkness within us, and now we’ve seen the darkness of Sanctum tonight. It reminds me that we will never escape that darkness. All we can do is be better.”

Bellamy smiles at her, his entire face warm. She looks at him and sees her future. Clarke wasn’t sure if she had one at the beginning of this night, but now knows. She looks at Bellamy and _knows._

Rain starts to settle over the forest, the fire speaking its own death around them. Smoke and embers sizzle as they make their way through the forest.

Washing it all away.

When they reach the edge of the forest, Clarke squints at a handful of figures at the base of the radiation shield. The group of them stop their walk, but Clarke can’t shake the feeling. One of them is small, another on the ground—

“It’s them!” Clarke cries. “Madi, Raven!”

The group of them hurry as best as they can with their injuries, reaching the group. Clarke rushes to where Madi is and the twelve-year-old launches herself into her arms. Clarke doesn’t care that her shoulder screams in protest, she grips Madi tightly. The girl buries her face in Clarke’s neck, the telltale signs of a sob coming closer. “It’s okay,” she says, placing her hand on her head. “I’m here, it’s okay.”

“I-I thought I lost you.”

“You will.”

All of them stop.

The foreign voice makes them all turn to see they are no longer alone. They never were. Unlike the others, the masks are off. They can see their attackers. Clarke knows some, doesn’t know others. But it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that they all are pointing guns at them.

“I’m sorry,” One of them says. “I d-don’t want to do this.”

“There’s an easy solution then,” Murphy snaps. “_Don’t_.”

“I have kids.” They continue. “And if we kill you, not only do we not have to participate, our children will never have to participate. Wouldn’t you want that? Wouldn’t you want that for her?”

Clarke moves in front of Madi, placing a hand behind her so she can place herself between the child and the gun. “But at what cost?” Clarke asks. “What lesson do you want to set for your children? We’ve done nothing except ask for a place to live.”

The person shakes their head. “It doesn’t matter if it costs me my soul. I have to protect my children.”

“Please,” Clarke says, putting her hands up. “We don’t want any part in this either. We don’t want to harm you.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have to do this. _We _have to do this.”

The group moves forward. Clarke takes Madi’s hand, who wraps herself closely to Clarke. On her other side is Bellamy, who is staring at the group with sorrow. Resignation.

They’ve fought for so long.

They thought it was over.

“You don’t,” Clarke states. She feels Bellamy take her free hand in hers and squeeze. She has the people she loves most in the world on either side of her, in the center of people she considers her family.

For the first time ever, she’s not dying alone.

And she loathes it.

“I’m so sorry,” another person sobs. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The guns raise. None of them take their own. They all look at each other and they know. Instead, they face the guns together. Unarmed. Free from the violence they’ve lost themselves in so many times.

Clarke tilts her chin up.

How does the Commander of Death die?

By greeting it like a friend.

A siren resounds across the land. It blares over and over again, settling among the wreckage. It’s as if it’s a force itself, passing among them. A spirit of the horror of the night, clothing them in the blood that was spilt.

_“The Annual Purge is concluded. All emergency services are available to those in need. Blessed be to the glory of the Primes and Sanctum, a community reborn. May the Primes be with you all.”_

No one moves. The people before them still have their guns raised, the weapons shaking in their hands. They don’t move. Clarke stares at the guns, not challenging. Not saying anything, despite the siren.

Simply waiting.

That’s when they start to fall. People lower their guns, faces crestfallen and crumbling. A couple collapse to their knees as the siren continues to resound. The crying grows louder.

Maybe that’s the only a Purge can conclude.

Humanity destroys. Then humanity weeps.

People start to stumble out of the burning forest, holding one another. Masks, now fizzling out, are no more than pieces of cloth.

It’s now the day after.

Echo and Emori both grab Raven and the group of them makes their way up to Sanctum. “Don’t forget, you need to get checked out to,” Bellamy whispers in Clarke’s ear. “Don’t forget you were shot.”

“That’s not something I’ll easily forget.”

“Nice try, Griffin, I know you too well for that.”

She grins at him, but it falters when she sees Russell make his way toward them. Everyone continues to the medical facility, except for Clarke and Bellamy, who wait as the man approaches. He smiles wryly at them. “I’m pleased to see you’ve survived the night.”

“Are you now?” Bellamy growls, putting a small amount of space in front of Clarke and Russell, which she would find endearing if she wasn’t furious.

“We have incidents that suggest otherwise,” Clarke states, trying for expressionless. “Interesting how right when we’re about to die, the Purge ends.”

“I don’t control when the Purge ends, Clarke.” Russell says.

“Don’t you though?”

The corner of Russell’s mouth turns up. “I’m glad to have you with us, Clarke. You and all your people. Let’s just say, the Purge was a reminder.”

Clarke frowns. “A reminder?”

“None of you are in charge anymore. Everything is under our control. Nothing happens unless the Primes says it can.” Russell leans down to where she is. “That includes dying.”

He straightens up. “I’m needed in the Prime Council Chamber, it’s always a bit chaotic after a Purge. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”

“I’ll be sure of it.”

The man leaves the two, not before casting one last glance over his shoulder. He smiles icily at them and Clarke tries to remain calm. Once he’s out of sight, the exhaustion of the night hits her, and she finds herself leaning harder and harder against Bellamy.

“That’s a tomorrow problem,” Bellamy says, nodding to Russell. “Today, let’s get you looked at.”

He wraps his hand around her and leads her through Sanctum, his weight a comforting presence that she’s so grateful for. And he’s right. They will have to figure out how to live in Sanctum. But today? Today they survived. Today all of them made it out alive.

Today, they were the good guys. And in the most violent of times, goodness made it through the night just in time for morning.

Bellamy laces his hand in hers, leading her further down Sanctum, the sirens from the night pounding in her hears. Russell’s cold expression remains, his words echoing to the beat of the horns.

_“May the Primes be with you all.”_

_“May the Primes be with you all.”_

_“May the Primes be with you all.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Halloween!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! *pumpkin emoji*


End file.
